


wait for me

by caesthetics



Category: Mawaru Penguindrum
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Brother/Brother Incest, Desk Sex, Dubious Consent, Incest, M/M, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:08:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26296186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caesthetics/pseuds/caesthetics
Summary: Episode 23. With Shoma down, Kanba takes some time to reflect.
Relationships: Takakura Kanba/Takakura Shouma
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	wait for me

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the first M-rated Penguindrum fanfic on ff.net... But, it's been a few years, so I was compelled to rewrite it. Please review the tags before reading, thank you!

_"Shoma... I've always... I've always wanted to do this to you."_

\---

He pulls the trigger with unreal ease. In one moment, Kanba holds his brother. In the next, his arms unfurl to push a stranger back.

The soles of Shoma's shoes beat the ground with two thumps and a thud, his knees scattering the glass before the rest of him follows. A truck cuts from below. Pale lights catch the falling snow and fallen glass, a flash that elongates the shadows within a room cast blue and pink. They pull and then turn-- frame each of them in bold streaks-- before stilling to stage gone dim.

Two slumps over itself. One rubs its beak and leers.

There's a beat like an interlude before Kanba regards sister. The glass crunches flatly beneath his feet as he crosses the threshold, that life monitor beeping at every odd step, its lines almost deathly flat.

\--

He finds himself home again, stopped by the sound of a kettle’s whistle. The life monitor is present but distant.

"You're really good at that kind of stuff," he means to say. "Thanks."

He doesn't though-- the sentiment's gone too stale to be useful and Kanba's unsure if it's tone-deaf of him to try. He considers the physical things the knowable ones so that's when acting gets easy. Kanba can outrun Shoma, has overtaken his throws a hundred times over.

But, it's where a person cannot train to better themselves that Shoma surpasses him.

When Himari tried to smile and wish them a good day at school, Shoma was the one who reacted first, taking her by the shoulders to console her. Was it something Kanba'd missed? Shoma must have seen the tears first, must have felt a tremor, a raw nerve, something he could have noticed if only he looked.

"She's a little better," the other boy says, shaking his hands free of the heat.

Himari's holds an eraser in one hand and some pink ribbons in another, her head content to rest against the far windowsill. She's the image of a crestfallen princess so Kanba moves toward her.

"You go ahead. I'll stay with her today."

"Ah."

He nods he thinks, because Shoma removes his blazer and dips into the kitchen to finish tea or soup or whatever, leaving Kanba to revisit that time and place over and over again.

...

He turns from it.

...

A child will prefer the softness of a terry cloth mother to a hard, wire frame father even if it's the latter that feeds and protects it. In other words, Shoma was kind. And kindness, like love, wasn't something that could be bought with force.

He's stopped midway between Himari and the window, crouching over the other boy now.

His eyes are dull as snow. They shift a bit, focus on him and... it's strange to notice it now, the length of those eyelashes, the paleness of his neck. A puff of hot air breath hangs briefly in the darkness, leaving just as it starts to overstay its welcome.

\--

"She loves us both. We're family, okay?"

The thought slips later that night and Shoma catches it from above the drone of the TV. Kanba shifts to his side and makes a face at the other boy's back.

"I think she loves you more though," he says, feigning indifference. "You saved her. You've known each other longer. I get it, nothing personal."

Shoma rolls himself around.

"Stupid."

A bit of static flits across the screen as he does. An exhibit at the aquarium, recently opened. Otters. Maybe they'll go someday soon.

"I'm not stupid."

"Selfish then."

"Excuse me?"

"You think she’s that kind of person: that she'd pick one of us over the other and it’s fine because you’re too cool to really care." He stands over Kanba who puffs his chest back out defensively. There's an apple that sits comfortably in his grip. He can't recall them buying any their last grocery run.

"Things have been better since we've been together. Don’t doubt what we have.

...Please."

Kanba relents.

"Hey. Shoma, I didn't mean it like that. I just... I don't know."

A sigh. "You're fine." The smile returns though it's smaller now... and Kanba's not sure why he's glad it does. Shoma hands him the fruit. "Forget it, okay?"

He won't.

\---

At first, Kanba thinks it's envy-- but, the longer he pursues the thought the more he realizes its lack of nuance. He knows admiration is there alongside disdain, obligation. Loyalty. But it's so much stronger than that even. _Deeper._

Kanba turns Shoma by the shoulder, pulls at his collar to reveal more of that skin. It's soft beneath his lips and he runs his mouth lower to where he finds his head fits perfectly between Shoma's shoulder and his neck. There's a primal familiarity to it, like one had been made for the other.

Brothers. Sister. Strangers. Lovers.

The roles spin between them like a penguin's drum-- and the boundaries blur the faster the wheel's turn until it doesn't matter and Kanba can't bring himself to care. There's no shame when he stops to admire the mark left by his teeth, how easily Shoma submits to him. Does he feel it too?-- or is it another one of Kanba's projections, an understanding made-up from lust?

His fingers tighten against Shoma's scalp, lifts and tilts the other boy's head to slip his tongue between those lips. Their kiss is slow and hot, distinct from one Kanba shared with Himari earlier that month. Hers was a kiss to seal a promise of devotion. Theirs was one shared between complements:

Protector and provider. Father and mother. Adam and Eve. A confirmation.

There's a shudder that Kanba registers so close to Shoma. "K-Kanba... please."

"Go on" and "stop" could have followed.

Kanba allows the other boy's head to roll further back. His lips touch his throat in thought.

"I mean it, Shoma... That I've always wanted to do this to you. Can you really blame me, though?"

Kanba lifts him easily, resettles him on the doctor's desk. Shoma's weight balances against his own and his hair falls over his face, obscuring his expression. There isn't enough energy for the other boy to turn from him though, just listen.

"You could've forgotten me. I would've been fine with that, eventually.

But you insisted we stay together. Love each other, even if the only way I can love..." _The essence of who I am._

Another kiss completes the sentiment. His hand grips the soft underside of Shoma's jaw and the other boy shudders into his claim. Kanba's blood thrums hot in his ears, down his throat, past his stomach and lower until a spike of desire overcomes him, makes the next move a hard shove that scatters the papers beneath them. Shoma's seen Kanba's body plenty of times, has heard his stories. It makes Kanba wonder if he's ever been jealous of those conquests-- if Shoma's ever fantasized his brother, taking him-- not like this but. _Maybe on their couch or over the kitchen counter, Himari's bed, where their parents slept..._

He undoes Shoma's pants and then his own, resuming his place between those slim, elegant legs.

The air of domesticity is still there in spite the circumstance. His hand wraps around Shoma's cock to ease him into the moment. Shoma's been saving himself for marriage or something just as special... and it's cute how sweet and needy he's already gotten with just a little bit of touching. His other hand toys with his nipple and Kanba watches how his face goes as red as the mark on his neck, from the texture of his glove, the shape of Kanba’s hand so unlike his own.

Kanba presses over him, edges him close with a kiss. A dazed whine follows as Kanba withdraws just short of his release. _Adorable._ He removes the glove.

"We'll enjoy this together." Kanba's fingers taste distantly of leather and sweat as he runs his tongue over them. "Trust me."

Shoma's eyes flutter shut to withhold a cringe... but it softens as Kanba works him, stretches him sweetly. A third finger joins the first two and his palm cups his balls as Kanba presses in even deeper. It's a good look for Shoma the way he tosses his head to one side, basking in the pleasure given to him... shoots a thrill thick with fondness and _want_ down his spine.

\--

Kanba pulls Shoma to him for the first time, probably their last one as well. He'd apologize if he didn't hate the notion of regretting.

Kanba strokes his cock, lines its head to Shoma's ass and. The push is slow in its reverence, as if to consummate some part of their relationship, physically. Irreparably. Shoma flinches which is to be expected when he's still so new to this. The shyness adds to the semblance of their matrimony, Kanba thinks.

He lifts the other boy's hips to inch himself closer, his other hand stroking Shoma's hair, his jaw and lips to calm him. He's so tight and hot around him that when Shoma makes to withdraw again, Kanba can't help but force himself deeper. The desk creaks beneath the heady weight of his thrusts, has Shoma shaking for another reason altogether. Those legs arch slightly, his fingers twitching at his side.

Kanba takes one hand and presses it to his heart.

"She'll hear you," he mouths, quieting Shoma with a kiss.

Kanba sets a firm pace that saturates the room with the muted sound of skin hitting skin. He'll lose himself in how beautifully the other boy takes him, how Shoma struggles to keep himself from crying out (from how good he must feel) (how well Kanba fills him). It's the completion of their duty to one another after all; a fruit Shoma had offered for Kanba to take.

He squeezes the other boy's hand as brings them closer, a sputter the unseats the likeness of tenderness.

\--

It's vulgar when he comes to. His cum is hot, thick and creamy from where they've joined, and Kanba pauses over Shoma to bask in the physicality of it all. And he'd have Shouma, fill him again and again, but he's been late since he started this.

The intimacy is a taste of what could be in the event of his success, a premature indulgence within a timeline failed. Kanba pulls himself from the other boy who shudders from the sudden emptiness. He straightens his jacket, redoes his belt, carries Shoma back to his place on the visitor's bench.

They would start from the beginning.

The scenery shifts and Himari is fine, the sun lighting their path to school. She walks ahead of them and before they turn onto the main street, he takes Shoma and kisses him then and. He hasn't planned it further than that, just that they fight less and Kanba remembers to say "Thank you."

The rest of it doesn't happen at a hospital-- and Kanba doesn't leave them, waiting strangers in the night.


End file.
